


Bloom

by RaspberryTree



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Small Town, F/F, Florist Clarke, Friends to Lovers, Secret Admirer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-07 08:03:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12228855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaspberryTree/pseuds/RaspberryTree
Summary: The grumpy owner of the local diner starts to receive messages from a secret admirer.





	1. GB

**Author's Note:**

> [Moodboard.](http://lecrumble.tumblr.com/post/166472580168/bloom-the-grumpy-owner-of-the-local-diner-starts)

Fall in Starling, Connecticut, is rarely a pleasant season. The icy drizzles, the howling winds, the wet leaves that cling to the bottom of boots, the _wet boots_ that track mud on the floor of the town's diner; Lexa hates it all. And does it matter if she puts two signs at the entrance pointing toward the doormat? Hardly. Still, she mops the floor with the same diligence each morning, knowing very well her fine work will be ruined as soon as she opens the diner—forty minutes from now, at 6:30AM sharp.

When the floors are done and the tables are set, when she glances at her watch and realizes she has only twenty minutes left before Raven strolls into the kitchen, Lexa walks up the hidden stairwell to her warm apartment. By the time the diner floor is dry, she's showered, killed her fatigue with coffee, and pulled on her jeans and long-sleeved top.

She spots Raven in the kitchen, her hair not yet in its ponytail and net. She rolled out of bed ten minutes ago—that much is obvious. Raven leans out the serving hatch with a small brown envelope in her hand and a smile much too bright for this time of day. 

"Did you purposefully ignore the mailbox again?"

Lexa eyes the envelope before starting a pot of coffee. "I'm still waiting on your supply list. Order goes out tomorrow." 

Raven groans, pretending to crumple on the counter. "Come on, you're not even a little curious?"

"I'm working," Lexa dismisses.

"Can I open it?"

Lexa quickly snags the envelope out of Raven's hand. " _No._ Don't you have bacon to fry?"

"You know, there's actually a woman out there who wakes up earlier than you. If that doesn't spell out soulmate—"

"Please stop."

"Poor chick; you must've really messed her up."

"I didn't _do_ anything. And for all I know, it's a guy."

Raven barks out a laugh. "Oh Lexa, no guy is this patient."

"It's juvenile either way. I don't have time for games. If this... woman really likes me," Lexa tosses the envelope near a stack of napkins, "she can tell me in person."

The bell dings as the glass door swings open, announcing a whirlwind of messy blonde hair and damp clothes. The woman dumps her purse, beanie and scarf on the counter before sitting on a stool.

"Please tell me your coffee's ready," she implores with a whine.

Lexa looks at her with something akin to resignation; clearly used to this brand of chaos but not especially amused by it.

"Hello to you, too, Clarke," Lexa says. "Please, feel free to sit down before opening time."

Clarke straightens up, glancing at Raven behind the serving hatch. "Did she mop this morning?"

"Oh she mopped all right."

Clarke looks back at Lexa. "I thought you agreed mopping makes you grouchy."

"Tris is late."

"Oh. Maybe you need a new waitress."

"Hey!" Raven protests. "I vouched for that kid. We're not firing her after four months."

"Sorry, Rae. Please don't spit in my eggs."

"We'll see," Raven says before disappearing in the kitchen.

Lexa glances at the clock and then back at Clarke. "You couldn't wait two minutes?"

"Lexa, have you been outside? My nipples were about to fall off."

"Your delivery van has a heater."

"It broke."

"Since when?"

"Yesterday. You really don't listen to me, do you?"

Lexa turns to the coffee pot with a sigh. She pours a generous cup for Clarke, who proceeds to fill it with sugar. "Regardless, you know I gave you a key for emergencies, right?"

Clarke wraps her hands around the steaming cup. "My stomach was growling and my caffeine levels were plummeting."

" _Emergencies_ , Clarke."

"I have 8AM deliveries in the city. What was I supposed to do—watch you from outside and pout until you opened?"

"That would've been entertaining at least," Lexa muses.

"You'd give in after two seconds."

"You're very sure of yourself."

"Very sure of my pout," Clarke demonstrates.

Lexa sighs, though her mouth curves into a smile at the jut of Clarke's lips. She moves around the counter and toward the entrance door. "Drink your coffee."

Clarke smiles to herself as Lexa turns the diner sign to OPEN. The drizzle stopped but the sky is still a sullen blue and the street is quiet. Lexa knows it'll change within the hour. Soon the town will shake off its morning frost and welcome the day ahead. For some people like Clarke, the day has already started. Lexa notices her small delivery van parked outside. There's a crown of flowers designed on the side and GRIFFIN FLOWERS written beneath it.

After a few sips of coffee, Clarke stretches her arms over her head. "You know… your mystery admirer put in a new order."

Lexa walks behind the counter and starts filling up an empty sugar dispenser. "Is that so?"

"Hmm. I'll get to it when I come back from the city. Should swing by between 8 and 10PM."

"Still no name?"

"Nope. Florist's code of honor."

"I see. You can keep the flowers."

Clarke's shoulders slump. "Lexa… it's the third bouquet. My house has enough hydrangeas as is."

"Then give them to your parents."

"Do you hate flowers or something?" Clarke presses her hand to her heart. "Oh my god, you do."

Lexa rolls her eyes, screwing back the cap of the dispenser. "You were right to quit drama school. And I don't… hate flowers."

"Then take my gorgeous arrangement and lighten up a little. You know some people would kill for one of my bouquets, right?"

"Of course, Clarke. Who wouldn't commit murder for peonies?"

"Exactly."

The entrance bell chimes again, two regulars Lexa could've recognized just by their loud chatter. "Good morning!" They say.

Clarke swivels around with a knowing grin. "Good morning, Beth. Marie."

Beth and Marie are as elegant as they are kind, their long hair as white as snow and their lips always some shade of red. They drink more coffee and eat more slices of Raven's lemon pie than Clarke knows her mother—the town doctor—advises, but they're both well over eighty and not even Lexa could refuse them anything. She's known them her whole life; from the time they'd slip her slices of cake after school to the day they held her hand at her parents' funeral. Lexa might pretend to be gruff with most customers, but Clarke sees the way she softens when the two women sit at their usual table, the sign on it perpetually reading 'Reserved'.

"Eggs and bacon," Raven calls out, sliding the plate out the serving hatch. She glances once at Beth and Marie before disappearing again and putting out two slices of lemon pie. "And pie for the stunners in the back."

Lexa sets Clarke's plate in front of her before walking toward the sisters.

Clarke glances over at Raven. "Stunners in the back, huh? Have I figured out your type?" 

"Spot on, Clarke," Raven drawls. "I'm all about octogenarians these days. You're a regular Sherlock."

"Hmm more compliments please," Clarke says, shoving a forkful of scrambled eggs in her mouth.

"Charming."

"Who is?" Lexa asks, sliding back behind the counter.

"Beth and Marie of course," Raven smirks. "Clarke is trying to figure out my type. Well, it's your lucky morning. I'm all about chest hair lately. Beards. I don't know where it comes from. Maybe Lexa's uncle after he dropped off those crates of flour."

"One more word and you're fired."

Clarke grins between two bites.

"Speaking of types," Raven continues, pointing her spatula at Lexa. "This one got a new note this morning."

"It's nothing."

"She won't open it," Raven reveals. "Again."

"No flowers and no letters," Clarke says before blowing on her coffee. "You're breaking that poor girl's heart."

"She thinks it's a guy now."

The bell chimes, causing them to turn their heads. It's Cage Wallace with his phone glued to his ear, as per usual. He puts down a crisp bill on the counter and barely raises his head, nodding at Lexa as if she can guess his order by osmosis. Lexa says nothing as she pours coffee in a paper cup and places a lid on it. He picks it up and is gone just like that, talking loudly into his phone about budget cuts. 

Clarke hides half her grin in her mug. "Well hopefully it's not that guy."

Lexa shakes her head as she puts the cash in the register. "Maybe one day he'll figure out he's wasting five dollar bills on two dollar coffee."

Raven snorts. "Why don't you use the spare change for mystery gal? Get her a vibrator with your face on it."

Clarke barks out a laugh so loudly that Lexa turns to her with a glare. "Don't you have flowers to deliver?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"And you," Lexa turns to Raven. "Can't you talk about the weather like everyone else?"

"It's cold and wet," Raven monotones. "Seriously though, I think you should consider what the girl has to say."

"It's weird, all right? She knows where I work, where I live—"

"Everyone knows where you work and live; they're the same fucking place!" Raven retorts. 

"It's cowardly."

"It's romantic," Raven counters. "Ever heard that magic word?"

Clarke slowly chews on her last piece of bacon. "Lexa can be romantic."

Raven and Lexa freeze, which gives Clarke pause. "You didn't tell her?"

"Tell me what?" Raven asks.

"Lexa and I went on a date once."

Lexa's face goes pale. "I'd hardly call it a date."

Clarke glances at Raven. "She took me ice skating and paid for my chocolate crêpe. It was definitely a date."

"Oh Clarkey, you are making my day," Raven says, leaning out the serving hatch on her forearms. "Did she do the thing where she pretends she's a horrible skater so she can cling to your arm?"

"Oh she did the thing. Twice. Until I called her out on it."

"That is not how it happened," Lexa protests.

"I need to write this down," Raven laughs. "Where's my pad?"

Lexa closes her eyes as she pinches the bridge of her nose.

"Don't worry about it," Clarke chuckles fondly. "It was cute."

Lexa scowls. "Again, aren't you on the clock?"

Clarke wipes her mouth with a napkin. "You know, for a girl who hates flowers you sure seem antsy for my clients to receive them."

"I'd hate for you to lose business."

"Well thank you, Lexa. I don't know how my flower shop would survive without you."

"You're welcome. Now let me do math," Lexa requests as she pulls out a ledger from beneath the counter.

Raven chuckles to herself before picking up her thick recipe book and leafing through it.

There's relative silence as Clarke finishes her coffee and meal. She watches Lexa jot down what seems to be inventory, her face framed by the few curls that are too short for her ponytail. Sometimes they fall in her face and she blows at them mindlessly, forcing Clarke to hide her smile in her coffee. She looks at Raven on the other side of the serving hatch, noticing how she frowns at a pumpkin recipe. 

"You making pies before the fair?"

Raven lets out a loud 'ha!" without looking up from her book. "They will have their pies for one weekend and one weekend only. No bonus days."

Clarke sets her coffee down. "How many did you sell last year? Fifty?"

"Fifty-eight," Lexa corrects. 

Raven scowls. "Do you know how many pie-eating nightmares I had after that?"

"We're only making forty this time," Lexa tells Clarke. "And it's one per customer. If they need more they can go to the city."

"Putting your boss cap on, huh?"

"Unless you'd be willing to give us a hand? Round us up to forty-five?"

"I don't know, how do your customers like burnt dough?"

Lexa purses her lips. "Not great fans."

"Tragic."

Lexa glances at her watch. "It's 7AM, by the way."

Clarke's eyes widen as she turns to look at the clock. "Fuck!"  She slips off the stool and ties her scarf back on. "Just add everything to my tab. And I'm still stoping by tonight with the flowers." She puts her coat on and shoves her beanie in the pocket before hurrying toward the door. "Thanks for the food, Rae!" 

"Be careful on the—" the bell dings as the door closes behind Clarke, "—road."

Lexa sighs and watches Clarke rush to her van and open the sliding door. She quickly peels off the sidewalk, music no doubt blasting.

"I guess you don't tell me everything, huh?"

Lexa turns to face Raven. "What?"

Raven throws her hands up. "You dated!"

Lexa picks up Clarke's plate. "We didn't _date_. We went out together once in a… romantic capacity, that's it."

"Which you never talked about."

"It was nipped in the bud. There was nothing to say."

"Was it really that bad?"

Lexa considers the question. She looks toward the entrance and then at Beth and Marie, still in their well-lit corner happily chattering over the news section of the paper. She puts the plate and silverware in the bus box.

"No… No, it wasn't bad."

Raven nods, though she looks dubious. "I gotta say I'm a little surprised. You definitely got the domestic bickering down."

Lexa turns around, leaning over the counter and pretending to stare intently at her inventory list. "She wasn't ready for a relationship and we agreed to stay friends. That's it."

"Did you kiss?"

Lexa swallows at the memory, then nods.

"Oh come on," Raven whines. "Give me something."

Lexa seems hesitant to revisit the night. She faces Raven and bites her lip. "I um… I thought I was reading things right."

"Wasn't the case?"

Lexa shakes her head.

"Ouch," Raven grimaces.

"It's better this way," Lexa says, rubbing the back of her neck. "Clarke's a good friend. We'd have lost that."

"Or gained something else…" Raven argues.

"Well, neither of us have a very good track record with relationships. Plus I'm always at the diner, and Clarke likes to take the weekends off. That would've been a problem. And what if we had a bad breakup? This town is small enough as it is. It'd ruin everything."

Raven raises her brow at the speech. "Right. Clarke and you together would be a disaster because she likes to keep her weekends free and you don't."

"There are other factors," Lexa scowls.

Raven closes the recipe book. "You know what? I'm starting to get why you won't give this secret chick a chance."

"That has nothing to do with—"

"I'm getting back to my bacon."

Raven disappears in the kitchen while Lexa swallows back her protests and stares blankly at the counter.

It's not long before Tris arrives, breathless and apologetic, and then Ryder to help Raven in the kitchen around 9AM, when it starts to get crowded. Soon enough it's too busy for Lexa to think about anything other than running her business. The envelope remains near the napkins, unopened and forgotten.

*

It's 9PM when Lexa finally turns the door sign to CLOSED. She's back to sweeping and Raven is back to cleaning up her utensils, yawning every ten minute.

"All good?" Raven asks as she gets out of the kitchen.

Lexa nods distractedly, feeling sluggish. Raven helps her set the last chairs up on the tables before she heads to the backroom to grab her coat.

"Another day gone by—" Raven is interrupted by her own yawn, which she doesn't bother covering up anymore.

Lexa chuckles and sets the broom against the wall. "Go home, Raven."

"Yeah, yeah. Goodnight." She pulls the door open and lets out a groan when the chilly air hits her face.

Lexa watches her rush across the street, barely missing the sludge by the sidewalk. The diner is quiet and dark again. Lexa cleans the last corner of the counter before re-aligning every sugar dispenser. She stops by the stack of napkins, almost flinching at the sight of the now grease-stained envelope.

She picks it up and hesitates before opening it, pulling a light-blue card out:

_I get the feeling I'm doing this horribly wrong, and potentially coming off to you as Freddy Krueger? Undetermined. I'll be at the fair next weekend. Want to meet up Sunday at 7PM in the gazebo? Will cease and desist if you decline to show, I promise. – GB._

Lexa re-reads the words, a small smile at the corner of her mouth. The prior notes were the same in tone, lighthearted but genuine, though this is the first time the woman has asked to meet. It won't be the quietest place, but Lexa supposes the point is to reassure her in a public setting. Still, the thought is daunting. It isn't like Lexa isn't interested in dating, but the past few months have been... calm. A part of her got used to living between her apartment, the diner, and the occasional night out with friends. 

Lexa tucks the note in her back pocket before untying her apron and hanging it on its hook. With the place sparkling, she unties her ponytail and stretches, groaning at the tight knots in her neck and back.

She hears the lock open and turns around, watching as Clarke comes in holding three pink hydrangeas in a pretty arrangement. She waits in front of the door and gives Lexa a hopeful smile, waiting for the green light. 

"Well?"

Lexa sighs. "I'm exhausted, Clarke."

"I know. And I'll get out of your hair as soon as these babes are inches deep in water. Deal?"

Lexa feels too tired to fight, especially when it comes to Clarke Griffin. Besides, the flowers do look nice. "Fine. But not in the diner. Tris is allergic." She takes her keys out of her pocket and walks toward the curtain that hides the stairwell. "Come on."

"What? Oh." Clarke follows Lexa behind the curtain and up the stairs, her boots squeaking with each step. Once they reach the top, Lexa glances down at Clarke's shoes.

"Step in a puddle?"

Clarke grimaces. "Got drenched by an asshole Maserati driver. Long story." 

Lexa opens the door and leads them inside, crouching down to pet her black cat when she purrs at her feet. "Hey, sweetheart," she whispers, scratching behind her spotted ears. 

"Do you have a vase?" Clarke asks behind her, shuffling toward the kitchen. 

"Cupboard on top of the stove."

"Got it."

Lexa watches as her cat scampers toward Clarke and rubs herself against her leg. Clarke doesn't seem to mind, focused on filling up the glass vase with water and unwrapping the bouquet. Lexa moves next to her and gathers the now slightly torn wrapping paper. 

"You can just throw that," Clarke quickly says. "There's no card."

Lexa nods before putting the paper in the trash. She watches as Clarke cuts the stems and then sets the vase on the kitchen island. "Tada." 

Lexa chuckles. "Are you happy now?"

"Very happy. I can finally write on my website that Lexa Woods personally adores my fine work."

"Bit of a stretch, isn't it?"

"They don't have to know that."

They share a smile that is far too familiar. Clarke is the first to look away and move toward the entrance. "All right, a promise is a promise. I'll leave you to it."

Lexa walks her to the door, holding it open as Clarke puts her beanie back on. She seems to hesitate before looking up at Lexa.

"Hey um… I'm sorry about earlier."

Lexa blinks, trying to remember the morning. "I don't actually mind that you come in early, Clarke," she reassures her. 

"No," Clarke smiles, "I mean telling Raven about our date. It kinda slipped out."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Lexa shrugs. "I guess it never came up before. It's not a big deal."

Clarke's smile falls a second before she brightens up again. "Well, good thing right? You'd definitely have to love flowers if we ever gave it a shot."

"Hmm, deal breaker right there."

Clarke chuckles. "I should get going."

"You're going to lock the diner door, right?"

"Yes, Lexa, I'm going to lock the diner door."

"Okay. Goodnight, Clarke."

"'Night, Lexa."

Lexa watches her go down the stairs two steps at a time, humming unintelligible lyrics to herself—something about flowers, no doubt. Lexa smiles before closing the door.


	2. The Starling Autumn Fair

The week before the fair goes by slowly, which drives Raven up the wall. Lexa can tell she's anxious about the amount of food they have yet to prepare for the upcoming weekend, but it's the fair committee in particular that makes her temper flare.

"Do you believe this shit?!" Raven fumes, reading over the last letter they've received. " _As the fair continues to expand and attract people from all corners of the world, the committee would like to remind its participating vendors that offering gluten free and vegan friendly options are highly encouraged_. Fuck you, Sheryl!"

And as Raven continues to insult the people responsible for her misery in the comfort of her kitchen, Lexa has little choice but to occupy herself with her patrons. It gets busier as they approach Friday, and the general sentiment is that tourists have once again overtaken their town. The inns and hotels have officially announced they're at full capacity, and though Lexa appreciates the extra business, the coming and going of unfamiliar faces has started to make her feel disconnected.

Truth be told (though not aloud), Lexa misses the regulars. Most of the townspeople are preoccupied with their own vending stalls, and with that comes a different routine. Even Clarke is busy on her work trips, though she made sure to text Lexa a grouchy selfie in front of a flower farm that raised its prices without a warning. In the early mornings, Lexa spends more time chatting with Beth and Marie, relieved that she still has their smiles to start the day.

On Thursday night, Lexa closes the diner an hour early. The plan is to open at 6AM the next day to start their toiling in the kitchen: the making and baking of pumpkin, lemon, pecan, and apple pies from dusk to dawn. The mini baskets of dessert bars, muffins, rolls, and hundreds of smaller treats become Ryder's priority. If Lexa ever regrets taking over her parents' pie stall during each fair of the year, she never says it aloud. It is, at most, a fleeting thought that she dismisses as soon as the fair is over. The pride far outshines the labor.

She unwinds before the big day the same way she has for the past decade: with a glass of red wine, her stomach full of pasta, and her cat on her lap as she watches mind-numbing re-runs of _The X-Files_. At one point her eyes wander around the room to the bouquet on her kitchen island, and it becomes impossible to ignore the decision she has to make.

Whether Lexa decides to go or not, someone will be waiting for her on the gazebo this Sunday evening. Admittedly, Lexa has thought on bailing more than once. Having always dated in a more… old school way, the thought of meeting a woman she hasn't pursued herself is daunting. What if she doesn't feel the same way? How would she let the woman down? Should she repay for the flowers? Maybe Clarke can make a special bouquet.

Of course, there's always the possibility that Lexa _will_ feel a connection. The notes have been sweet and funny, never teetering on corny. The flowers were more straightforward, but Lexa likes walking into the kitchen and seeing them. And it has been some time since she's been in a relationship…

Lexa finishes her wine and stares blankly at the screen, thinking back on her last attempts at dating. There was Giselle just this summer—who stayed in Starling as a temp in the Parks Board—but their fling had already fizzled by the time she left back to the city. Before that, well, Lexa can admit she still pined for the friend she nearly lost because of her stupidity. If Clarke's "not yet" after their short kiss had once made Lexa hopeful, it was clear after a few months that she had been gently rejected. She didn't blame Clarke for it—what a shit position to be put in—and she was relieved when they naturally fell back into the groove of their friendship.

But no matter what she told Raven, kissing Clarke Griffin wasn't something you just forgot. Sometimes, Lexa wishes Clarke had outright turned her cheek.

On nights like these, with only her cat as company, the loneliness weighs a little heavier. Lexa wouldn't mind cooking her best pasta dish for two, or huddling beneath her quilt with someone else as they go back and forth on what to watch. She sees it plainly, and maybe it isn't exactly romance the way Raven believes it should be, but Lexa has always preferred casual intimacy to grand gestures.

And yet, looking at the flowers, she can't help but think it _is_ nice to be wanted for something other than coffee and food. There's someone out there looking to put a smile on her face, and slowly she's succeeded. Lexa doesn't know what to make of it, but just like that her decision becomes easier: she'll meet the woman and open herself to whatever may come.

*

On Friday, the diner is empty but certainly not a happy place. At noon, Raven has already burnt her thumb, complained twice about Ryder bumping into her, and nearly made Tris cry for dropping the ground cinnamon jar in one of their bubbling saucepans. At 1PM, Lexa drags her out of the kitchen and into the diner's restroom.

"You need to take a break," she tells her. "Now."

Raven takes a step back. "Excuse me?"

Lexa turns her around to face the mirror above the small sink. At the sight of her reflection, Raven's eyes nearly bug out. Her hair, once a shiny black in its tight ponytail, is speckled with cinnamon powder. Her forehead, eyelashes, and cheeks are just as messy: coated in a fine layer of flour and baking powder.

"I'm _white_ ," Raven cries out.

Lexa hands her a paper napkin. "Go out for a walk, grab a mocktail at Lincoln's bar, and take a breath. You're making yourself miserable and it's rubbing off on everyone else."

"A mocktail?" Raven snorts. "You hang out with Beth and Marie way too much."

Lexa arches a brow. "You yelled at a seventeen-year-old today. Do you really want to start this war?"

Raven's shoulders slump. "I did yell at Tris, huh? I should apologize."

"After your break."

"There's still so much to do—"

"Raven. We're ahead of schedule, okay?"

"I know, I know. I'm just…"

"You love the fair."

"I love the stupid fucking fair."

Lexa nods. "You want people to love it, too. That's normal."

"Don't pretend I'm the only one."

"I'm not. But I guess I'm a little more confident in our ability to pull it off."

Raven loses herself in thought for a moment, then starts nodding. "You're right. We're totally going to have the longest line."

"Oh I know. Don't brag to Clarke, though. She'll get competitive."

Raven chuckles as she wipes the flour off her face. "So true. Speaking of…"

"No. No speaking of."

"Oh come on. You dragged me to the restroom. This is like, mandatory chick-talk time."

"I dragged you here because Ryder and Tris were plotting to murder you."

"Really? Oh well, can't blame them. Did you figure out what to do on Sunday yet?"

Lexa leans against the tiled wall before taking a small breath. "I'm going to meet the woman."

"Fucking finally!"

"If there's no spark, so be it. But… I'm curious."

"And Clarke?"

"What about her?" Lexa frowns.

"Are you still turning that page?"

"Raven, the page was turned months ago. You realize I've dated someone else just this summer, right?"

"Please, Giselle swung by once a week and you didn't even invite her to movie nights."

"That's a friend thing."

"Uh, explain why Lincoln brings his girlfriend then?"

"Giselle wasn't my girlfriend."

Raven smirks. "Exactly."

Lexa rolls her flour-stained sleeves back up to her elbows before grabbing the door handle. "All right, end of conversation."

"Oh come on, this is fun!" Raven exclaims. "We never talk about feelings! I'm spiking my mocktail to celebrate."

Lexa stops the door and turns to her. "Raven, you're definitely fired if you come back drunk."

*

The mood changes completely once Raven comes back looking like herself. She apologizes to both Tris and Ryder, cutting through the tension that suffocated them all morning. Their schedule isn't a breeze after that, per se, but actual teamwork makes it much more pleasant. At one point, they even break into song.

Lexa takes a short break in the empty diner room around 4PM. She goes through their schedule and remembers to put their box of paper napkins and plastic utensils by the door.

"Lexa?" Tris calls from the serving hatch. She holds the basket of _friendly options_ , as they deemed them, though their appearance is far from appealing. Between the pathetically thin dessert bars and the misshapen muffins… well, there isn't much to be said. "Should we trash these? It's batch number one."

Lexa goes behind the counter and looks into the basket. "Are these the ones Ryder almost choked on?" 

"Yep."

Lexa sighs and takes the basket. "Someone might like the taste."

Tris seems unconvinced. "Sure… or you can stick some googly eyes on them and put them on display. Your table has like, zero decorations."

Lexa smiles tiredly. "I might do that. Thanks, Tris."

Tris nods and disappears in the kitchen. Lexa brings one of the muffins to her nose before tasting it. It isn't… horrible, but it pales next to the recipes she knows and loves.

She hears the door open and bites back a smile at the sight of Clarke in her oversized brown parka and earflap hat.

"Hey. I think I saw a pack of bears looking for you."

"Haha," Clarke mocks as she unzips her parka and takes off her hat. "Try lugging entire crates of flowers in and out all day. I've got frostbite on my ass and I'm pretty sure Wells is still thawing."

"Coffee?" Lexa asks.

"Please."

Clarke sits on the stool and looks over at the serving hatch. "Everyone at work?"

Lexa starts the coffee machine and nods. "We had a minor breakdown but thankfully we're on schedule. No overtime so far." She covers the yawn that escapes her and takes out a cup for Clarke.

"What are these?" Clarke asks, looking into the small basket of treats.

"Try one. They're dairy and gluten free."

Clarke grabs one of the flat muffins and eats it whole, much to Lexa's amusement. She happily chews on it until her nose wrinkles and she swallows it quickly.

"Um thanks, but I prefer food that clogs my arteries."

Lexa chuckles. "Don't worry, the rest will hit your sweet tooth just right."

"Can I call dibs on my pie now?"

"Nope."

Clarke leans forward with a pout. "I brought you flowers just days ago."

Lexa pours the coffee in their cups. She feels a strange need to agree at the sight of Clarke's pursed lips. "Stop that."

"So the pouting _does_ work."

"You can't bribe me. And those weren't even your flowers, really," Lexa adds more quietly.

Clarke arches a brow. "They didn't die, did they?"

Lexa sips on her coffee. "They're very much alive and thriving."

"Good. I'm proud of you for parenting your first bouquet."

"Hardly my first, Clarke, but thank you."

Clarke grins before drinking from her own cup. She's a little pale and her eyes look tired, as if she's actively fighting sleep. Lexa hesitates to say anything, knowing she and most of the other fair participants look the same.

"Excited for tomorrow?" She asks instead.

Clarke doesn't seem to hear her at first. When she blinks up and sees Lexa staring at her expectantly, she quickly nods. "Oh yeah, for sure. Got everything ready. Now I'm just kind of… pacing. You know that feeling when you're on a rollercoaster and it's going up, but you can see the part that goes down just ahead so you're both terrified and excited? That's where I'm at."

"That's specific." Lexa notices Clarke moving her knee up and down, seemingly nervous. "You seem a little… fidgety."

Clarke looks away, picking at the corner of a paper napkin. "Just tired. We couldn't fit everything in the van so now my house smells like a shampoo ad. I think it got to my head and messed up my sleep."

"Oh. You can put them here if you want. We'll move some tables around."

"That's okay, but thank you for offering."

"Well if you want somewhere to crash tonight, I have the pullout couch—"

"No!" Clarke blurts out. "It's fine, Lexa, I promise. Just a long weekend and then we can all sleep like babies. Everything goes back to normal, right?"

Lexa chews on her lip before throwing caution to the wind. "Actually, I'm going to meet the woman who left me the notes. So in all fairness you might lose her patronage."

Clarke blinks a few times before sitting up straighter. "You're going to… meet up with her?"

Lexa suddenly feels a little hesitant. It's not like she's never discussed her personal life with Clarke in the past few months, but her recent conversation with Raven has awaken something she's tried hard to suppress.

"7PM at the gazebo. Think I should show up with flowers?"

Clarke's mouth parts open before she lets out a small laugh. "I mean, if you want to. How about I bring them for you before she shows up?"

Lexa smiles at the thought. "Sounds good. But nothing that says _I love you_ or some other secret message."

Clarke taps her chin, pretending to think. "You know what, I'll make you the perfect arrangement of ' _I'm gonna put a ring on you_ '."

"Funny. Am I going to see you before that?"

"Probably not, unless you get a minute to swing by."

"Doubtful. It's hard managing the most successful stall."

Clarke narrows her eyes. "Did you really just say that?"

Lexa shrugs, taking another sip of coffee. "I guess I did."

"I sell ten flowers for every pie you sell."

"But our pies have been featured in every guide book since 1998. You just can't compete, Clarke," Lexa says with a teasing click of her tongue.

"Yeah, well, _United Flowers_ gave my shop five roses out of five," Clarke retorts with a huff.

"That's not a thing."

"Yes it is. It's a blog, Lexa."

"A blog? I'm sorry, I thought this was 2017."

"Shut your pie hole."

"Do you talk to your flowers like that?"

Clarke crosses her arms beneath her chest. "You know what? I don't really like this cocky version of you."

"You love all versions of me," Lexa grins before picking up the coffee pot again. She fills up Clarke's near-empty cup. "Don't tire yourself out. We've got two long days ahead."

Clarke doesn't look away, shaking her head in mock disbelief before succumbing to a smile. "Yeah, we do."

*

Even if the fair has been around since Lexa was a child, it's still nerve-racking every year. At the crack of dawn, Raven, Ryder and her set up their stall. As they take out their pies, baskets, and other treats on their long table, Lexa stills looks around them with a feeling of anticipation. She waves at the other townspeople setting up in front and beside them, forming the zigzag of aisles that is traditional in the fair.

The smells, the noises, the people—they all change every year and yet remain the same. Their table is smack dab in the center of the Starling Park, one of the best spots to have. Lexa has her parents to thank for that. She thinks about them often, but this season in particular is filled with memories of them.

As Ryder brings out their three ugly lawn chairs, Lexa closes her eyes and takes a breath. Their prices are set and their food is evenly spread, making for a colorful setup. Though she gave up on finding googly eyes in time, Lexa collected a few red leaves and pinecones for decoration. Raven suggested they steal one of Marcus Kane's mini pumpkins, but his mother was already guarding their table like a hawk.

Regardless, Lexa is proud of their stall. If everything goes well, it'll be empty by Sunday.

*

Everything goes well.

It's mildly scary how smoothly it all goes, really. The fair is packed and loud, filled with excited adults, screaming children, and all sorts of other people that belong in their own categories. Lexa's favorite customers are the quiet ones; the ones who, once they reach the stall, know exactly what they want. They ask few questions and don't carry their toddlers in their arms—toddlers that shove their fingers in their mouths and then reach out to grab the bright orange cake pops.

Predictably, they run out of pies quickly. Lexa still has fifteen left in their fridge for Sunday, which won't exactly last long either. Of course she could've hired more people to make more, to sell more, but her parents' stall was never about profit. Hurrying up the process to boost sales never felt right. Though Raven still curses their Friday, Lexa knows it was a rewarding day for all of them. In the end, the tradition is what matters.

On Sunday at dawn, Lexa wakes up with sore legs from standing all day. More noticeable is her heart already hammering away in her chest. She isn't sure why at first, but the bouquet in her kitchen is a sudden reminder. She freezes, asking herself if she can still go through with it.

Has the woman been at the stall yesterday? She mentioned she'd be at the fair. Is she a vendor? Lexa's memory of the first day is already a blur of faces, and no one in particular jumps to mind. She tries to eat breakfast but can barely stomach two slices of toast and jam. It's absurd, she thinks. She's not the type to get flustered.

After a quick shower, she decides to quit worrying and put some effort into her clothing. She wears her darker jeans and nicer sweater, leaves her hair down, and wipes the mud and grass from her boots. It's comfortable enough for the fair, but also less bulky than what she wore yesterday (though it was nothing in comparison to Raven's insulated red coat).

Lexa wonders if she should text Clarke not to come with the flowers. Maybe it's too much, too corny after all. But seeing Clarke would help. She has a knack for calming her down; always has. She texts her a quick "happy fair day" before meeting up with Ryder in front of their van. She gives him a thermos of coffee, which he downs half of on their way to the park.

The trickle of people comes quickly after sunrise. Soon enough it's busier than ever, and Lexa has barely any time to think. They relay each other to eat their sandwiches, and around 4PM the crowd starts to thin out a little. Most head to the town square to get good seats to the concert that concludes the end of the fair at 7PM. It's a part of the tradition that Lexa and most vendors don't really get into. Mostly, they take the time to close their stalls and wind down. Even though the following Monday is a town-designated holiday, it's rare anyone who's worked all day wants to spend their evening surrounded by screams and loud music.

After they sell their last basket of muffins—by some miracle, the vegan treats did appeal to some customers—and are able to fold one of their tables, Lexa settles in her chair and tries to calm her erratic heart. Raven looks at her a few times, asking if she's all right, but to her credit she doesn't tease.

When 6PM hits, they've sold out the entirety of their food. There are a few crumbs left, some cake pops sitting a little sadly, but Ryder's niece stops by with her mom and Lexa is happy to give them all for free.

The wind blows a little harder as the sun goes down, and Lexa feels a wave of fatigue fall down on her. She watches the familiar faces around her start to pack up, putting whatever is left in boxes, folding their chairs, their tables, and rubbing their gloved hands together to keep warm. 

"I'll carry the tables to the van," Ryder offers. He looks tired but happy, the state of most vendors.

Raven nods and helps fold the chairs up as Lexa gathers their empty baskets, plastic cutlery, and napkins in bags. She looks around for any sign of Clarke, but her flower stand is all the way on the other side of the park and it's likely her parents and Wells are around with helping hands. Raven and Lexa do a few trips up the hill to the busy parking lot, stuffing their belongings in the van. When all is said and done, Raven gives her a knowing grin.

"What?" Lexa frowns.

"It's 6:40PM," Raven points out.

"Already?" Lexa checks her watch and looks back at the park, gnawing on her lip. "I guess I'll—"

"You want me to come with? Make sure you're not about to get chainsaw-massacred?"

"Is that really a verb?"

"You're stalling," Raven smirks.

Lexa sighs, pulling her hat over her ears. "How do I look?"

"Like a hot lumberjack—jane. Whatever."

"Raven."

"Relax, okay?" Raven laughs. "You know this girl's already into you."

"All right… yeah. I'll see you Tuesday."

"Bright and early, baby."

Lexa watches Ryder and Raven get into the van, slowly pulling away from the curb. She moves to the side, putting her hands in her pockets.

"Have fun!" Raven yells out.

"Goodnight!" Lexa retorts with a small smile.

Lexa leaves the parking lot and wanders back down the hill and around the fair, taking the small path up the stone stairs that lead to the large gazebo.

There's a group of teens drinking what looks like soda and chatting quietly in one corner, but otherwise it's quiet. Lexa walks to the free bench that faces the gorgeous autumn colors of the sugar maple trees. She picks up two maple keys fallen on the bench and twirls them in her hands, trying to stop fidgeting. 

"Look at you all cozied up."

Lexa turns in her seat, smiling as she watches Clarke sit next to her. She wears her warm white sweater and carries a small bouquet of orange roses. It's wrapped in thin white paper with a ribbon at the bottom. Her hair falls in loose curls and... there's a tiny orange leaf stuck atop her head. Lexa gently takes it and shows it to Clarke.

"Thanks. I hear that's good luck."

"I'll keep it then," Lexa chuckles softly.

"You think you need luck?"

"I don't know yet," Lexa shrugs.

Clarke shifts in place, looking out in front of them. She sniffs, her nose a little red from the cold.

"I um… got you these."

Lexa takes the bouquet with a smile. "They're gorgeous. Thank you." She brings them to her nose, trying to distract herself. They smell a little sweet, not overpowering in the least.

"My entire stand ended up smelling like raspberry donuts," Clarke says with a sheepish grin.

"Let me guess, you were next to Jasper Jordan?"

"And Vincent Vie frying up his apple fritters on the other side."

"I'm surprised you didn't end up with a sugar high."

"I don't know, there's still time for it to kick in."

They share a smile, and Lexa finds herself speechless again. She looks down at the bouquet, turning it in her hands. The logo on the paper makes her smile.

" _Griffin Blooms_. You still use your dad's wrapping paper?"

Clarke bites her lip and slowly nods. "Sometimes."

The story always makes Lexa smile. Clarke left behind a life in the city to take over her father's flower shop after he decided to retire. She revamped the shop entirely, including a minor name change with her dad's blessing, and modernized it without sacrificing what made it so charming in the first place. Clarke worked hard over the years, eventually setting up a website and expanding the delivery services to some nearby cities. It isn't easy managing a small business when you spent your life trying to make it as a painter, but Lexa remembers understanding Clarke Griffin a little better through the care she put in her work.

Lexa brushes her thumb over the letters, her smile slowly falling. She swallows hard, suddenly feeling her chest tighten.

"It's…" She doesn't need to look at her watch; doesn't need to make sure. "It's 7PM."

Clarke remains still as a statue, as if she's not breathing at all. She nods quickly, unable to look at Lexa.

It feels like the noise around them hushes down. Lexa doesn't hear the low conversations or even the wind anymore. Her heart beats so fast she thinks it can't be normal, can't be safe.

"Clarke… Clarke, why?" She murmurs.

Clarke looks down at her gloved hands. Her cheeks are red and her eyes are yet, and it almost looks like she's heartbroken. "I didn't know how else…"

Lexa keeps herself from reaching out. Her eyes sweep over every inch of Clarke's profile, desperate to read what she isn't saying. "You said… you said you weren't… We tried and—"

"And I got scared," Clarke says, finally looking at her.

"Of me?" Lexa whispers.

"No," Clarke's voice breaks. "You never did anything wrong, Lexa."

"Then what?"

"I…" Clarke swallows hard, as if these next few words are the hardest to get out. "It was just… the idea of us. When suddenly I looked at you, and you looked back at me holding that crêpe and that hot chocolate, and I just knew that…"

"It was a date," Lexa finishes with a sad smile.

"It was a date. And you were… perfect, Lexa. I kept thinking how good it felt, how I loved laughing with you, just listening to you, or even picking you up when you pretended to fall on the ice."

"I wasn't pretending," Lexa mumbles unconvincingly.

Clarke smiles, wiping her eyes. "And then you kissed me and… I realized I'd never felt that way before."

Lexa frowns. "But you were with Finn for two years."

Clarke lets out a watery laugh. "Exactly."

Lexa's mouth parts open at the realization. "Oh."

"I wasn't ready for us; for me to be that… vulnerable," Clarke confesses. "The shop was just starting to turn a profit, I was still dealing with the crap website, still spending most nights in the city taking business classes. And it just hit me I needed to get my life together. How could I ever be good enough otherwise?"

"Clarke, you're—"

"Just let me finish," Clarke pleads. "I love you for respecting my feelings, Lexa, but sometimes I wish you could just… explode at me. Because I know it confused you—that I acted like I only wanted to be your friend when really I—"

"You…" Lexa swallows hard, "You love me?"

Clarke pauses, her mouth curving into a soft smile. "Yeah, Lexa, I love you."

"That's—Clarke, I—"

"You don't have to say it."

Lexa looks around them before getting up. "Let's get out of here."

Clarke blinks, taken aback. "What?"

Lexa reaches out for her hand. "Come on."

Clarke doesn't hesitate, taking Lexa's hand and letting her pull her out of the gazebo. She doesn't care where Lexa takes her; only that her hand feels warm even through their gloves and that she squeezes it reassuringly as they rush over the ground covered in yellow and orange leaves. Lexa stops them behind a large maple tree, and both of them slow down their breathing.

"The gazebo was a little cliché, wasn't it?" Clarke asks with a self-deprecating grimace.

Lexa shakes her head and steps closer to her. "I couldn't continue this in front of four teens sipping on hard cider."

"Were they really?" Clarke asks with genuine surprise.

"Clarke," Lexa laughs. "God, how can I not love you?"

"You—y-yeah?"

"I've tried to get you out of my head for the better part of a year. It was a horrible failure."

Clarke seems to blush, adding to the red in her cheeks. "You know, I… I was going to do this sooner. Like, five months sooner."

Lexa frowns, eager to ask why until she remembers. "Giselle."

"And I don't blame you at all," Clarke is quick to add. "It just got me all doubtful again. I thought you were moving on; how could I mess that up? But then you said it was never serious, and..."

"You came up with the notes," Lexa smiles.

"Just testing the waters."

"I should've known when you referenced Freddy Krueger."

"Okay, that was a joke. Let's not mention him when we're alone surrounded by big trees."

Lexa smirks. She approaches her slowly, forcing Clarke to back herself into the tree. "Are you scared?"

"Stop it," Clarke frowns.

"Sorry, I won't bother you anymore." Lexa pretends to leave, only stopped by Clarke grabbing her hand and pulling her toward her.

"Don't you dare."

Lexa laughs, the sound only fading when she realizes how close their faces are. She doesn't make a move to step back, and Clarke doesn't drop her arm.

"Clarke…"

Whatever she wants to say, Clarke doesn't allow her to finish. She draws her closer and kisses her, as if she couldn't wait a second more. Lexa feels her heart pound, her fingers tingle, and her thoughts vanish. She cups Clarke's cheek and deepens the kiss, soaring with happiness when Clarke smiles and wraps an arm around her waist.

Clarke doesn't even think about it; one moment their kiss is innocent enough and the next she's being pressed against the rough bark of the tree. She moans at the taste of Lexa's tongue, at her body flush against hers, at the brush of her nose against hers. She can't remember how she managed to stop this before.

"Take me home," Clarke murmurs against her mouth.

Lexa doesn't know what makes her dizzier: the intoxicating proximity of Clarke's body or the fact that she refers to her place as home.

"Are you sure? We can take it slow."

Clarke leans her forehead against Lexa's. "You don't think we've gone slow enough?"

Lexa swallows hard. "M-maybe. Yes, probably." She sighs and kisses Clarke's lips, and then her slightly cold nose. "You don't know how relieved I am I didn't have to make small talk with a complete stranger."

Clarke laughs, pulling Lexa closer. "If you prefer, we don't have to talk much either."

"Then who would test my patience every day?"

"God, Lexa, just kiss me already."

Lexa closes the gap with a smile, not quite sure how they'll ever leave this spot. They stay a few minutes longer in the park, hidden behind the maple trees, the exhaustion of the day replaced with unbridled desire, the kind that could keep Lexa up for hours. She wastes no more time, taking Clarke's hand as she did earlier and pulling her through the park. She's only interrupted by Clarke's intermittent demands for a kiss— _a kiss for the road_ , she says. Lexa happily complies.

By the time they've reached the diner, climbed up the stairs, and gotten inside her apartment, Lexa has kissed Clarke Griffin over twenty times. Each press of their lips is sweeter than the last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've enjoyed writing this so much, it's possible there'll be a third chapter. In the meantime I might work on some prompts for the Clexa Halloween week, so if you have any suggestions on those, feel free to comment. Thank you for the incredible feedback on this little story! :)


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